


unanswered questions

by CapnShellhead



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Gen, Nightmares, Past Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 10:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19171384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: When Tim finds Damian in the throes of a nightmare, he tries to help. In investigating the cause of said nightmare, Tim learns more about the little brother he'd never asked for.





	unanswered questions

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my first foray into writing fics set in the DC universe, but it is my first real attempt at writing Batfam. I went on a long Damian Wayne binge and read his every appearance from the start up to Rebirth. There was an issue when he went undercover as a rich kid with Dick as Batman in Detective Comics, Annual 11. The creature holds him down and threatens to make a man out of him. From what I read, this event was never addressed and I couldn't imagine that Damian would be the one to seek someone out to discuss it. So, I wrote this short piece.

Tim had never seen the demon spawn sleep.

Once, he’d told Tim he could survive on a cursory thirty minutes and still function at full capacity. It was complete bullshit, but it was just one of the many statements Tim had decided to let slide. He was slowly learning to choose his battles wisely. Even if it was fun to watch Damian get all huffy, raise himself to his full height (all four feet) and try to argue with him.

On this night, Tim had come back from patrol to find the small brat asleep on the couch in the den. The television cast a light blue glow over his face, lax in sleep. His chest rising and falling softly, mouth slightly open in slumber. Tim hovered by the doorway, a strange feeling settling over him.

Asleep, Damian looked… _young_.

Of course, Tim had always known that: Damian was ten years old. He stood nearly half of Tim’s height, his hands and feet so much smaller than the rest of the family’s. At times, Tim found himself looking to Damian in doubt that he’d ever been quite that small when he’d been that age. Damian was a child. Even knowing he’d had years of combat training and education, that he’d felled men twice, three times his size, Damian was a child. And Tim had never been more aware of that fact than he was right now.

He’d turned to leave when Damian shifted, his brow furrowing. Tensing, his arms suddenly jerked, twisting, caught in the blankets as he tried to pull himself free.

Breath quickening, his chest heaved as he began to call out, “No, stop, _stop!”_ He tried to tear at the blankets, his face twisted in fear. “ _Please_ , please, this isn’t – I don’t – _won’t_ feel that way yet,” he panted, kicking out, a rattle in his voice that Tim had never heard before. His lashes were wet, his voice breaking as he pleaded, “I’m only ten. _Please, stop.”_

Tim froze on the spot, heart pounding as Damian cried out, “Grayson!”

“Damian,” Tim called out, his hands shaking at his sides. He’d never seen the kid like this before; he’d seemed fearless. Even facing down armed gunmen, he’d never batted an eye. His small chest rose and fell rapidly with labored breaths, his voice a near sob.

Starting forward, Tim reached out and tried to tug the blankets down. Damian’s head came up, smacking into Tim’s face with a sickening crack. Warm blood trickled down from Tim’s nose and into his mouth as he kept trying to free Damian’s arms. A small foot came up and kicked out at Tim’s chest, knocking him back and into the coffee table. The glass shattered, a few shards digging into Tim’s arms as he fell through it.

“What is going on in here?” Alfred demanded, rushing into the room. Dick appeared at his side, the cowl pushed back, eyes wide and assessing. “Have you two been fighting again?”

“He’s having a nightmare,” Tim began, wiping at his face, eyes caught on Damian’s form.

Dick rushed forward, pulling Damian in his chest. The kid’s head snapped back, knocking into Dick’s chin hard. Dick grimaced, holding fast as he persevered, yanking the blankets away and pulling the kid tight against his chest. “It’s okay, D. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m here. I won’t let anything happened to you.”

Tim watched silently, stomach twisting at the sight. The level of comfort Dick shared with Damian, the easy way he touched him and trusted that Damian wouldn’t recoil, push him away with that air of disgust he only ever seemed to offer Tim. Like Dick was yet another thing Damian had stolen from him. Watching them now, it almost left Tim envious. He set it aside as he watched Dick’s fingers softly card through Damian’s hair, the quiet murmuring calming Damian.

His eyes fluttered open, wet with tears before he squeezed them shut and wrapped his arms tight around Dick’s shoulders. Dick hugged him tight, the room silent save for Damian’s heavy breathing. Finally, Damian pushed Dick away, wiping angrily at his face as he climbed up from the couch. The blankets were wrapped around his waist, knuckles white as they gripped the fabric.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Dick said, steering Damian from the room.

Alfred helped Tim to his feet, careful of the mess of broken glass. Tim started to pick up some of the splintered wood when Alfred cleared his throat, trying to push Tim forward. “Let’s go see about your nose, Master Tim.”

It was rather abrupt and Tim started to ask when his eyes fell to the couch. A dampness spreading where Damian had lain.

+

Alfred dealt with his nose and sent him on his way. It was radio silence in the halls, no sign that Damian had risen again. Dick hadn’t returned. Tim felt that familiar loneliness watching Alfred and Dick tend to Damian while he was left to his own devices. He wondered if this was how most older siblings felt when the youngest came along. Before, it had been Damian stealing his title. Now, it was Damian sharing parts of himself with everyone… except Tim.

He’d earned Dick’s trust and affection. Alfred’s care and devotion. Even Rose Wilson had more than a few kind words to say about the kid and she didn’t like anyone. In return, Damian was fiercely protective and loyal to his big brother. He left Alfred small sketches and gifted him with imported English tea and theatre tickets. He’d even sent for a custom-made dagger for Rose that she refused to let anyone else touch.

Tim was the outlier.

Damian was the demon brat. The son of Satan, the bat brat, the hellion, the terror of a little brother Tim had never asked for. He was a thorn in Tim’s side and one that Dick ad kept trying to force Tim to acknowledge. Everyone started out precisely where Tim had and, over time, Damian had worked his way into their lives and gained their confidence. Gained their trust, their love. Now, everyone wanted Tim to _know_ him and Tim didn’t understand. He knew Damian – that was the problem. He knew exactly who the kid was and he was determined to stay far away.

Damian had never tried with him and Tim had never had a problem with that in the past. It was just fine with him. Even so, that didn’t mean Tim didn’t care about who had put that fear in Damian’s eyes. It haunted Tim, sent him to bed tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep.

Hours later, he gave up and made his way down to the cave.

He scoured the case files, searching for answers. Bruce had kept meticulous records of every case he’d ever handled. Unfortunately, Dick hadn’t kept up the same level of detail. Sure, he kept case files, he wouldn’t be a Bat if he didn’t. But, he didn’t list everything from the weather conditions to the catalogued soil samples. Since taking over, Dick had kept records of who they dealt with, any new players and records of serious injuries. There was no way to tell who had left Robin shaken in such a way.

Of course, Tim didn’t do well with unanswered questions.

 

+

 

Hours later, Tim slumped up the stairs to his room. He fell asleep before his head hit the pillow.

When he awoke, two pairs of green eyes were staring down at him. Startled, Tim reared back, clutching the sheets to his chest. Damian’s mouth firmed, his arms crossed where he stood by the bed.

“Drake,” he greeted.

“Damian.”

The kid’s nose wrinkled briefly, his eyes cutting to the door before settling on a spot south of Tim’s eyeline. “Pennyworth has informed me that I should apologize for the events of last night.” Clearing his throat, he raised his chin. “It is unfortunate that you were injured. It won’t happen again.”

 _Hell of an apology,_ Tim mused. “I’d rather you tell me what happened.”

Damian’s shoulders tensed. “I won’t give you more ammunition. I won’t do your work for you.”

Sighing, Tim ran a hand over his face, resolving to try another tactic. He sat up, catching Damian’s eye. “Something scared you.”

“I don’t get scared.”

“Everybody gets scared.” At Damian’s scoff, he added, “I get scared.”

Damian’s mouth twitched, “I bet you do.”

Not taking the bait, “I was scared last night. I didn’t know how to help you.”

“I’m fine. It was a moment of weakness. Don’t’ concern yourself.” He turned to leave.

“You know, after Jason, Bruce bugged the Robin suit.” Damian froze, his breath catching. “I found mine and disabled it. When you took over, I thought Alfred didn’t’ know to add a new one. He did.”

Damian gripped the doorjamb, his knuckles white. Then he turned around, his face twisted in rage. “Why bother asking me if you already knew? Was it an attempt to further humiliate by making me voice it?”

Startled, Tim stumbled over his response. “No, it wasn’t—”

“Were you hoping that I might behave like a child? Shed a tear or two? Go running to Grayson?” he demanded, stomping forward.

“No, I was trying to—”

“Does it give you joy to know that I was overpowered? That I found myself held against my will? Flat on my back while some woman—” His voice cracked, eyes wide with panic before he put himself away. “I won’t give you the satisfaction!”

“I was just trying to tell you that I erased it.” Damian stared at him, his eyes bright and unusually glassy. Tim’s chest tightened as Damian scanned his face for some sign that he was lying. “Whatever happened that night, it’s gone now.”

Damian’s jaw tensed as he nodded and stepped back. “Right then.” He turned his head, his throat working. He started towards the door and the words slipped out.

“You should tell someone what happened.” Damian’s eyes flashed and Tim held out his hands in surrender. “It doesn’t have to be me.” He stood his ground. “I get it, you don’t like me. That’s fine. I’m not your biggest fan either. It doesn’t have to be but you should talk to someone. Alfred. Dick. _Somebody_. It’s not healthy to keep this stuff bottled up.”

“Because you’ve told Pennyworth every single one of your embarrassments.”

“No, but I had Steph. I had Bruce. I told Dick a lot of it. It helps.”

Damian’s mouth twisted and he shook his head. “I don’t need you giving Grayson any more reason to take this away from me. Robin is the only thing I have now. I lost my purpose, I turned my back on my family and I lost my fath- I won’t give this up. I can do this job, Drake.” His voice wavered, a rattle in his voice. “I can.”

Tim knew this speech: he’d given it several times before. “No one’s saying you can’t.”

Damian’s eyes widened, frighteningly honest for an instant before he lowered his head. “I came here to apologize for breaking your nose.” He moved through the doorway, “I am sorry.”

+

Damian had several nightmares over the next few weeks.

Tim wasn’t there for all of them. He heard about two or three from Dick. Alfred mentioned it when he tried to encourage Damian to go upstairs and get some sleep. He’d heard Damian in the throes of one over one of the camera feeds in the cave.

Dick was at his wit’s end. Tim would’ve felt guilty about erasing the audio tape but, to tell the truth, it hadn’t led Tim any closer to discerning what happened. All he’d heard was Damian’s pleading and a high-pitched whistling, like feedback over a microphone. It was awful and listening to it had made Tim’s skin crawl. He’d been able to pinpoint the case but not who had caused such fear. He’d erased it because he thought about Dick and Alfred’s faces that night and hadn’t wanted them to find it.

Now, he was hard at work in the cave repairing one of his grappling hooks. He heard the quiet sound of bare feet on the cave floor.

“You shouldn’t be down here. And you really shouldn’t be barefoot,” he said tiredly. “Alfred will have your head.”

Damian was quiet. So much so that Tim set down his tools and peeked over his shoulder, breath catching. The kid looked miserable: his hair a mess, dark shadows under his eyes his posture uncharacteristically lax. His eyes were dull and tired as he stared at Tim silently. Tim turned to face him, concern bleeding through.

“What do you know of the Mystes, Drake?” he asked quietly.

Frowning, Tim clasped his hands together. “Mystes? Nothing really. Well, they’re mythological creatures.”

“I thought so, too. Until I encountered one.” He gripped his right arm, holding onto himself as he inched forward. “They can pick and choose when to be corporeal.”

“Okay.”

“When Grayson and I were undercover, we found a group of them had been kidnapping children for some sort of ritual.” He inched closer, if only so he didn’t have to speak as loudly. “When I chased after them, one of those creatures grabbed me.”

Tim went quiet, his heart pounding in his chest as Damian continued. “She got me down on my back, I couldn’t move. She said that I would be a man, perhaps very soon.”

Tim’s blood ran cold, frozen in place. “I tried to fight it but nothing worked and she was so strong. I couldn’t push her off of me and all I could think about was how ashamed father would be.” He blinked, his lashes fanning out over his cheeks. His eyes cut to Tim’s, bright and open, so much younger than he had any right to be. “I was trapped and I just… stopped fighting.” His voice broke off, his breathing labored. “I panicked and then Grayson came to find me.”

“Damian,” Tim breathed, standing carefully. He made to reach out, stiffening as Damian tensed and took a half step back. Small crescent moons on his arm where his nails had dug in. “You never told Dick?”

“It was my fault. My mistake. I wasn’t going to give him a reason to dismiss me.” Tim froze, his hand curling into a fist. “I could handle it. I am handling it.”

“You’re not sleeping.”

Damian’s chin rose, his voice firming. “I’m not scared of them. If she comes back, I’ll be ready.”

“Just because they don’t scare you out there, doesn’t mean you’re not scared here,” he said, tapping his temple.

“I can do my job,” Damian insisted, without quite the same bite as before. His eyes shimmered in the overhead light, almost desperate. “I can! I’ve been doing it. I’m just as good as you and Todd. I’m better! I know archery and several different languages and I know more styles of combat than all of you except for Cain. I’m faster and I’m smarter. I’m not just a Robin, I’m the best there’s ever been!”

Tim had heard this spiel before; he’d even committed it to memory. This time, for the first time, Tim heard it for what it was.

He moved forward slowly, telegraphing his movements. Damian’s eyes widened, face crumpling as his eyes spilled over. Nodding, Tim crouched down, “I know, Damian.”

“I’m the best, Drake.” Tim pulled him into his arms, holding him close as Damian shivered. Damian’s wet face pressed tight to his neck, a quiet sob escaping. “I’m the best.”

Tim stroked his back, his voice firm as his hand came up to cup the back of his head. “I know.”

+

In the end, it took a cup of coffee.

After their conversation in the cave, Damian returned to avoiding Tim like the plague. He went on patrol with Dick, spent all his free time in self study, with his animals or following Pennyworth around the manor. He never mentioned what happened with the Mystes again and while the nightmares didn’t stop, they seemed to lessen. Tim wondered if their talk had helped.

Nothing seemed to change. Once or twice, it seemed as though Damian was a little less hostile towards him when their paths crossed. At times, it seemed as though he stepped a little in front of Tim when they faced similar foes in the field. But it wasn’t until Tim arrived in the cave a month later that he noticed anything different.

There, waiting for him beside the computer, a fresh cup of coffee. Too hot to have been left by Alfred and lacking the cream and fifty sugars Dick usually used. It was black, French pressed and clearly not from the beans Alfred housed in the kitchen. It had clearly been left for him.

Pulling off his gloves, he picked it up, the familiar scent bringing a smile to his face. He took a long sip, his eyes falling shut.

“I know you’re there,” he greeted, opening his eyes. He held up the cup, “Thanks.”

“Consider it an indictment of your carelessness in the field. You could stand to be more alert,” he chided, coming to stand beside Tim at the computer bay, his chin raised.

“Is that so?” Tim asked, taking another sip.

“Of course, what else would it be? You get yourself killed, I have to hear about it from Grayson and Pennyworth for months.” His nose wrinkled as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned towards the practice mats.

Tim shook his head, setting the cup down as he hid a smile. “Noted.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr!](https://capn-shellhead.tumblr.com)


End file.
